


Hypothetical

by gsmaxwell



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Anal Sex, College Student Stiles, Foreground Twosome, Fuck Or Die, M/M, Multi, Mutual Pining, Oral Sex, PWP without Porn, Sex Pollen, actually Fuck or Be Uncomfortable, background threesome, slight Stiles/Lydia in the beginning, slight slight dub con
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-19
Updated: 2015-03-19
Packaged: 2018-03-18 14:09:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,632
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3572498
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gsmaxwell/pseuds/gsmaxwell
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stiles liked to think his Latin had improved since junior year, now that he had an everyday practical use for the thing. But it was hard to think in English let alone a dead language when there was a very much alive, warm hand pressing his bare cock against his stomach. </p><p> </p><p>  <i> Fuck or Be Slightly Uncomfortable. We all know what they choose. Duh. </i></p>
            </blockquote>





	Hypothetical

**Author's Note:**

> So, as writer's block clogs both the Hogwarts AU and the sequel to Science of Evasion, I decided to write. This. This smut. It was written in basically a day. I hope you... enjoy it? Not really proofread so please also enjoy any hilarious typos that may (will) occur.

Stiles liked to think his Latin had improved since junior year, now that he had an everyday practical use for the thing. But it was hard to think in English let alone a dead language when there was a very much alive, warm hand pressing his bare cock against his stomach.

 

“Jesus, fuck,” he bit his lip as Lydia wrapped her French manicured fingers around him properly and squeezed. “Jesus- Lydia, the spell—“

 

“I know, I know,” he had never heard her voice so breathless. He tasted the chalky flavor of her lipstick. She broke away with a gasp. Somehow her shirt was open and Stiles couldn’t help but slide a hand in and take a firm grip of one lace-covered breast. “Fuck, Stiles, this wasn’t the plan.”

 

He let out a harsh laugh that was cut off as he thrust up into her hand, his brain short circuiting as she ground her pelvis onto his thigh. Forget the shirt, her skirt was hiked up enough he could see the round, soft skin of her ass as she knelt over him.

 

“We have to call Deaton.”

 

“Stiles,” she almost purred. “I didn’t know you were into older guys. Finally, something in common.”

 

Stiles groaned in more than one layer of frustration as he took his hand off Lydia’s breast to tug violently until he ripped most of the rhinestone buttons and pulled her shirt all the way off. It was a testimony to how under they were to the spell because she didn’t even bitch as he flung it across the room. For a second he couldn’t imagine not touching her skin now that he could see it and he gripped, under her ribs, shoulder, pulling her skirt up higher so he could dig his fingers into the soft mounds of her ass. She kept on moving, grinding down on him, shifting insufferable as he tried to pin her down so he could touch every part of her, with his hands with his mouth—

 

He grabbed the back of her thigh, holding it tight as he pushed up hard, rolling them until he was settled between her thighs, pinning her down on the rug with his hips. His erection was trapped almost painfully in the folds of her skirts but he couldn't stop kissing her neck long enough to make things more comfortable.

 

“Stiles—“ she gasped and he felt her legs coming up, opening her hips beneath him. All he had to do was shift her underwear aside and sink into that hot, wet centre—

 

Cold, cold, _cold_ , “Motherfucker—“ Stiles cursed as strong hands yanked him backwards. Lydia’s nails dug into his arms trying to keep him in place but there was someone stopping her. Stiles could barely make out the blurry shape because his vision felt like it was tunneled to only her.

 

“Get a grip!” there was a growl in his ear and Stiles suddenly realized the reason he couldn’t move his arms was because there were two strong arms wrapped around his torso, pinning them to his side. Just as hot but not as soft, a distinctly not-Lydia person was wrapping their legs around his hips, tangling their legs together to keep him thoroughly pinned. “Stiles, you’re going to hurt yourself!”

 

“It’s a spell,” Lydia’s voice was a little broken, gasping as Stiles watched her struggle against her own captor. “Just—went a little wrong. You’ve got to—I’ve got to go—“

 

Stiles could feel the spell making his skin hot and barren as it latched onto the closest anchor it could find. Derek had been holding him tight to keep him from getting away. As Stiles changed directions and pressed further back into his embrace he felt the man stiffen.

 

“You guys fucked up a sex spell?” Derek growled, the vibrations amplified by the heat over Stiles’s skin. He could feel the heat swelling up, threatening to choke him.

 

“No,” he managed to croak. “It’s a rejuvenation spell. For the garden.”

 

Allison—that was who had grabbed Lydia. Scott was there too, but he snatched his hands off from where he had been holding Lydia’s legs so she couldn’t kick. Stiles knew why, he could see Lydia tilt back against Allison, spreading her knees again until one leg tried to hook over’s Scott’s lap. “W-we may have mis-measured the lavender.”

 

“What should we do?” Derek sounded pissed but Stiles couldn’t help but feel himself grow harder.

 

“Nothing,” Lydia laughed a little. “It’ll wear off. Just be a little uncomfortable.”

 

“Understatement,” Stiles bit out. Derek had loosened his grip; Lydia’s words must have reassured him. However, before Derek could realize the stupidness of that assumption, Stiles twisted, managing to push Derek back hard enough to bounce his head hard on the shed’s stone floor. He had a minor pang of sympathy but the man was a goddamn werewolf, he could deal with some head trauma. What was important was the relief Stiles felt as he straddled Derek’s hips and thrust down against the softness of his shirt.

 

“Stiles!” he could dimly hear Scott but in the next second he heard a surprised yelp so he supposed Lydia had finally managed her own maneuvers.

 

“You’ve got to chain us up,” Stiles managed to groan. “Fuck, Derek—“ he leaned forward, biting his chin, jaw, maybe his nose as he chased the harsh pleasure from rubbing against Derek’s stomach.

 

It was somewhat embarrassing that Allison didn’t have to go further than three shelves before finding the shackles Lydia had put in the workshop for just this situation. Well, maybe not the sex part but similar ones where restraint was needed.

 

“How long is this supposed to last?” Derek said with gritted teeth as he locked on shackle around Stiles’s wrist. Stiles’s other hand was squeezing at the front of Derek’s jeans which seemed to be rapidly growing tighter.

 

Lydia let out a breathy moan as she managed to snag one of Scott’s thighs between hers and grind up. There was a clatter as Scott dropped the chain he was holding. Stiles was only barely able to enjoy the panicked looked he shot Allison.

 

“An hour or so,” Stiles managed to say as Derek wrestled his other hand from where it was sneaking beneath Derek’s waist line. Quickly, he managed to lock both of Stiles’s wrists together but unfortunately for Derek he only managed to get them in front of Stiles. Without hesitation, Stiles grabbed his own cock and started stroking with a heady groan.

 

“Stop that!” Derek pulled his hands away in the only direction they could go—up. Immediately, Stiles melted back on the hard ground, hands over his head, and wrapped his legs around Derek’s waist. Using gravity and balance, he managed to tip Derek on top of him. “ _Stiles_!”

 

“Shit,” Stiles groaned at the way Derek said his name – murderous should _not_ be sexy, he tried to remind himself in a fog but his brain seemed to have largely checked out – and rubbed along the soft cotton of Derek’s shirt. As quickly as he could, he looped the chain behind Derek’s neck and yanked him down into a teeth-clacking kiss.

 

“Okay!” Stiles could hear Allison’s cheery voice but it didn’t stop him from tilting his head to get a better angle at Derek’s mouth. “Maybe we should let the two lovebirds alone.”

 

“No!” Derek wrenched his face to the side, eyes glittering and his breath wild. Stiles licked up the side of his jaw. “If we leave them along they’ll just do each other.”

 

“But we— _Jesus Christ_ —can chain them!” Scott yelped and there was a scuffle but Stiles was too focused on the salty taste of Derek’s skin. He pushed his tongue against the grain of the shadowed edge of his beard and Derek’s arms shook.

 

“I don’t think that’s going to stop them,” Derek’s voice was strained. He struggled to get out of Stiles’s octopus-like grip but Stiles wasn’t going to let him go for less than a Beta-shift.

 

“We can’t just—“

 

“The contract!” Lydia’s voice was breathy but clear. “We have the contract!”

 

“That’s life or death situations,” Scott’s voice was panicked. “You said you’d be fine!”

 

Derek, however, stiffened as Stiles made his way to the dip behind his jaw. Subtly, he tilted his neck to give Stiles better access.

 

“There’s—page three, section 2b.” There was a scuffle somewhere behind Derek followed by another yelp and a giggle. When Lydia spoke again there was a victorious laugh in it. “We could have signed for special circumstances. I signed—Stiles?”

 

“Hell yes, I did,” Stiles thrust up, making sure to drag the whole length of his cock along Derek’s stomach.

 

“But—“

 

“Scott, if you’re not comfortable we won’t do it,” Allison said soothingly. Lydia made a distressed sound.

 

“You mean—you would—“

 

“I signed it too.”

 

There was a heavy pause where all Stiles could hear was the pounding of his own heart and the ragged breathing from Lydia. “Well, okay I guess.”

 

“Take off your pants,” Lydia ordered and there was a frantic scramble of clothes, buckles and chain sounds from that corner of the greenhouse followed by some very obvious moaning.

 

It took a lot of effort for Stiles stop worrying Derek’s earlobe. He couldn’t bring himself to let go of the hard plains of muscles but Derek shifted to take all his weight on one arm so he could run a large, warm hand down Stiles’s spine in what felt like a comforting motion.

 

“Derek?”

 

“Uh, just because you signed a paper—“

 

Stiles yanked at the chain, forgetting his hands were shackled for a moment in his frantic effort to shove his pants further down his ass. Instead, he jerked Derek’s head forward and their foreheads collided painfully.

 

“God damn it, Stiles,” Derek hissed in pain. Patience gone, he braced his hands behind Stiles’s shoulder and sat up so Stiles was straddling his thighs instead of clinging all along the front of him. It was immeasurably more comfortable and Stiles didn’t have to strain his neck to bite at Derek’s collarbone now. “Stiles—“

 

“We can stop,” Stiles managed to croak out as he wiggled forward, feeling Derek’s hard erection on the back of his thigh now and barely holding it together. “But you’re going to have to chain me to the desk. Because, trust me, this isn’t just a signed contract talking.”

 

“You’re sure?”

 

Lydia let out a high keen. Stiles could see over Derek’s shoulder now as Scott pulled his head out from under Lydia’s skirt, his mouth glistening. “For God’s sake, Derek, Stiles has been ready to jump all on that since freshman year.”

 

“Of _middle school_ ,” Lydia added, not looking up from where she was expertly unhooking Allison’s bra.

 

“Way to let the cat out of the bag, guys,” Stiles grumbled but the fact that Derek seemed to relax at their words belayed any actual anger he might have.

 

“Ha,” Allison laughed but bit her lip as Lydia closed her mouth around one nipple. “Worst kept secret in Beacon Hills.”

 

“Can we please stop talking about my awkward pre-teen crushes and get back to the part where Derek fucks me through the ground?”

 

Derek’s hips jerked slightly at those words and Stiles kissed him again before he could respond with potentially embarrassing questions. If it were possible, the fever burned hotter as Derek finally got with the program and gripped Stiles’s hips. Holding him in place, he deliberately rocked up. Stiles shivered, bones feeling like they were white-hot molten lava as he sucked on Derek’s tongue.

 

 His knuckles felt like water as he gripped the short hairs on the back of Derek’s neck and tried to wrestle him into a better position. His knees were hitched higher on Derek’s sides now as his lower body seemed only be able to rubbing insistently on Derek’s abdomen. The shirt was rucking up with each movement and it wasn’t long before his cock slid on warm, slightly furry skin. Derek wasn’t passive, his hand had slipped between Stiles’s loose, unfastened jeans and his underwear, gripping his ass with a focused determination. Stiles shoved hard, and Derek’s grip tightened, spreading his cheeks just enough Stiles felt a sudden emptiness.

 

“Clothes,” Stiles grabbed Derek’s shirt collar and started to pull it up like a rope until it bunched under Derek’s chin. It was uncoordinated but brief struggle until Derek’s popped his head through the collar. It tangled on his shoulders, earned a frustrated growl until Derek finally just ripped the thin material and threw the shreds into the corner.

 

“What the hell,” Stiles panted, managing to calm himself enough to take in the smooth lines of Derek’s chest as the other man started on his jean buttons. “This is ridiculous. What do you bench press, a city bus?”

 

Derek glanced up, his mouth slightly open from heavy breathing, and gave Stiles an exasperated look. “You have to get off. Me.” He added quickly when Stiles’s hands strayed towards his erection. “You have to get off me if you want me to take my pants off.”

 

“Dear Lord, do I ever,” Stiles muttered and hissed as he closed his hands around himself anyway. It was too dry, too uncomfortable but between the spell and the number of times he had been yanked away from just the right moment it was enough. He thought maybe he should warn Derek but it was too late – it was like a vacuum, all the heat, green magic, and sweetly painful pressure seemed to rush through him all at once, leaving his breathless and weak as he came all over Derek’s bare stomach, his hands, all the way to the underside of Derek’s chin.

 

The outraged look on Derek’s face would have been hilarious if Stiles could focus his eyes. As it was, he couldn't focus for anything, including staying upright on his perch. Derek had to lung forward to catch him as he fell backwards. Dimly, he heard Lydia shout, her banshee powers developed enough he was pretty sure if the greenhouse wasn’t warded as tightly as Fort Knox it would have brought their neighbors running.

 

Oh boy, Stiles managed to think as his lungs expanded and contracted of their own violation as he tried to gather back things like sense and human words. He blinked, the fuzzy edges of the world slowly becoming sharpening in the form of a burly werewolf with an expression that looked like a cross between horny, concern and the annoyance that usually came when he found Stiles passed out somewhere between his desk and his bed in his dorm room.

 

 “Stiles,” yup, that was exactly the same pissed off tone he got, especially when he realized that the pizza boxes piled by the door had been Stiles’s breakfast, lunch and dinner for the past week. Stiles blinked again, his hand reaching up without him commanding it to pat clumsily at Derek’s face. The man just glowered harder. “Are you okay? Is the spell finished?”

 

Was it? Stiles hooked his fingers behind Derek’s ear and pulled his face down so he could sloppily bring their mouths together again. Derek hesitated for half a second but kissed back, his tongue stroking the underside of Stiles's, reaching nerves Stiles hadn’t known existed. Magic stoked in his belly, satiated but the smell and taste of Derek’s face stirring the embers bigger.

 

“Don’t stop doing that,” Lydia’s voice was strained but commanding. “It’s a rejuvenation spell, it’s meant to rekindle things. It’s going to take a while to die out.”

 

“What she said,” Stiles said, drawing back just enough to speak before he caught Derek’s lower lip in his teeth and swiped his tongue inside again.

 

Derek was holding Stiles’s head still and Stiles tried to wrap his arms around Derek’s torso to encourage this but the shackles brought him up short. Derek jerked away with a sharp hiss of pain and it took Stiles a minute to realise it was because he had pinched of one Derek’s nipples in between the chain links. “Keys,” Derek bit out as he rubbed at his chest. It took Stiles a minute for his brain to process the questions.

 

“Brown desk, top drawer.” He had to untangle his knees from Derek’s to let the other man clamor to his feet but it was for the greater good, he reminded his half hard penis. Realizing this was his chance, he shoved his jeans and briefs down, being extra mindful of the chain this time, and was brought up short when they tangled around his sneakers. Swearing, he sat up to toe them off and for an eyeful of the scene in front of him.

 

Derek had skirted around the threesome happily going at it between them and the workshop desks along the wall. For all the time he and Lydia spent studying magic, sneaking into Wiccan circles for advice about tricky spells and plants, he had never actually seen the woman totally naked. Somewhere along the way, they had all managed to divest. Stiles tried to never think about Scott naked but there he was, bulky arms and torso easily holding Lydia’s back against his chest as he thumbed circles around her nipples. Allison knelt between her legs this time, three fingers deep inside her as she kissed the moaning girl with some of the dirtiest tongue work Stiles had never seen. Stiles’s mouth went dry and his half hard cock stiffed so quickly he felt light headed.

 

He almost didn’t notice Derek had come back until the other man flicked him on the nose. Stiles turned, about to apologize when he realized he was suddenly almost level with a very impressive bulge in Derek’s jeans. Somehow, he managed to shift his gaze up until he met Derek’s frustrated eyes.

 

“Pants?” Derek reminded tightly and Stiles remembered exactly why he had sat up in the first place. Quickly, he yanked off one then the other and kicked his pants away with a triumphant flourish. When he looked up again, Derek had flicked open his own jeans and was folding them with a concentrated expression on his face. Stiles scrambled for his shirt.

 

“Hands,” Derek rolled his eyes when the material tangled in the chains. Stiles held them out obediently as Derek crouched and started to unlock them. Stiles could smell the cum still on Derek’s skin, glistening a little in his beard and he leaned forward to kiss the intensely set mouth. Derek kissed back as if on instinct then leaned back with a frown. “Here,” he pressed a blanket into Stiles’s hands. It was soft, if Stiles was watching something overnight he usually used it to take naps on the sagging couch in the corner. “It’s unsanitary to do this on the ground of a greenhouse.”

 

“Do not try to tell me you care about stuff like that,” Stiles toss the blanket to the side and greedily dug his nails into Derek’s shoulder blades, pulling him back between his legs. “Your bed was basically a pile of soot when you first came back to Beacon Hills.”

 

“Yeah, but I didn’t fuck anyone on that,” Derek said grouchily but obligingly settled over Stiles, hitching one of his legs around his hips as he lined up his brief-clad erection with Stiles’ bare one. The embers that had been stirring seemed to burst up in a gust and Stiles saw red behind his eyelids. Strong hands reached under his ass, lifting Stiles up as another tugged until Stiles found himself settled on the fuzzy blanket. Derek was right, of course, the cold ground had been uncomfortable and dangerously littered with sharp twigs, but Stiles was too busy trying to get his hands in Derek’s underwear to say anything.

 

It wasn’t long before Stiles found himself getting swept away with the burning urgency again. Derek had to pin his wrists to the ground as Stiles bucked under him, trying to get as much friction on his cock as he could. Stiles struggled, his mind nearly blank except for the all-encompassing need to get something warm and tight around himself.

 

That changed slightly when Derek finally let go of his wrists. Derek’s fingers cupped around one side of his ass and cold, slick fingers pressed again his hole. “Fuck,” Stiles’s eyes snapped open as his hands scrambled on the bugle of Derek’s arms, not entirely sure whether he wanted to press back or press up. It seemed Derek had found the lube alongside the key and, wow, Stiles was going to have a lot of embarrassing explanations later about why all those things were in the same place. For now, though, Derek wasn’t questioning as he slipped the tip of his finger inside.

 

Stiles made some kind of gulping, embarrassing moan as he felt his body shifting and accommodating the stretch much faster than usual. His fingernails were blunt but he knew he was drawing dents in Derek’s back as the man twisted his finger, tentatively pushing another alongside as if he didn’t believe how easily it was all going either. “Yeah, shit, right there,” Stiles managed to pant as he hooked his chin over Derek’s shoulder trying to get as close him to him as possible. “Oh my _God_!”

 

Derek was predictably silent but Stiles felt the way his fingers stuttered in and out, a third making Stiles keen. With a strength, he didn’t know he possessed, he threw himself forward. It was probably a mixture of distraction and shock at the sudden burst of movement but it was enough to knock Derek back until Stiles managed to bodily twist the man onto the ground so their positions were reverse. Stiles ground his cock down on Derek’s as he tried his own hand at pining Derek’s hands over his head.

 

Sex spell or no sex spell, thought, Stiles couldn’t match a werewolf in a wrestling match. Derek rolled his eyes and freed one of his hands. It was probably for the best because there was a furious, slick sound as he rubbed the rest of the lube on his fingers onto his own cock and held it steady as Stiles sank down.

 

It was a little too dry to be totally comfortable and Stiles had to bit his lip and force himself to stop halfway. He wasn’t sure how much longer he could hold himself still though, the spell boiled and churned under his skin trying to get him to overcome the friction. Derek seemed to be able to read the pained expression on his face though because he quickly reached for the tube of lubricant and spread more on his hand. He gripped his cock again, forcing Stiles up, making Stiles dig fingers into his chest at the burn, and sloppily made everything smoother. On the second time, things slipped much easier and Stiles rocked down in one easy movement.

 

He reached for his own cock but Derek held his hands firmly in front of him. “Make it last longer,” Derek said through gritted teeth as Stiles rocked a little, reluctant to move away from the delicious full feeling. “You’re going to hurt yourself if you keep coming.”

 

“Said no one ever,” Stiles managed to bite out. He leaned all the way forward, planting his hands on either side of Derek’s head as he rose until Derek’s cock was only half in him, and sinking down again quickly. He bit his lip hard enough he knew if he kept it up he was going to draw blood. Derek had let go of his hands when it looked like Stiles wasn’t going to try and rub himself raw anymore and used one hand to draw him into a kiss.

 

They developed a sloppy rhythm. Derek had drawn his knees up so his feet were flat on the ground. He met Stiles’s rocking hips with his own, taking a few tries to match speeds and strengths. Stiles didn’t really notice. All he knew was how hot Derek’s mouth was, how his body was shaking and teetering on the edge, just one strong wind way from falling over again. Derek’s other hand reached down to cup his ass, fingers brushing along Stiles’ rim as his cock pushed in and out. Stiles had to turn his head to the side as his breathes became more ragged. “Derek—I can’t—I’m going to—“

 

Derek thrust up until he was as deep as he could go and stopped. Stiles felt like sobbing as he pushed back, trying to get him to move again. Derek’s stomach was one tensed plain of muscles holding him in place as he refused to move, forcing Stiles to catch his breath until the urgent force in him abated slightly.

 

“Just one more time?” Stiles’s voice was a shade away from whining.

 

“If you want to be able to come again after this, then by all means,” Derek said. At least Stiles knew this was something Derek wasn’t happy about either. The man’s face was tight, his eyebrows furrowed together as he took deep breaths. Carefully, he let go of Stiles and pulled himself up. Stiles’s cock was suddenly pressed between their bodies, a hot, comforting feeling as he shivered. Derek pulled at his knees until he was comfortable, Derek’s thighs providing somewhere for him to rest as he sat back and tried to ignore the way Derek’s cock felt deeper and larger inside him at this angle.

 

The spell roared at him, green and white flashing on his eyelids, a sharp bitter taste on his tongue urging him to just take what he wanted greedily but Derek’s hand gripped his elbow, grounding him. Slowly, he opened his eyes and met Derek’s green-brown ones. “Okay?”

 

Stiles nodded sharply, taking a steadying breath as he did so. Carefully, Derek braced his other hand on the blanket behind him and gently thrust up.

 

Stiles didn’t know how long this pace went on. In this position it was harder to get leverage, especially with Derek’s hand leaving his elbow to hold one side of his hips still. He looped his arms over Derek’s head, buried his face in the salty tasting skin of Derek’s neck as he let the slow grind shimmer the spell inside of him. He could hear the faint groans and words of the other three. Clearly, one of the them had caught on to Derek’s plan. From the sounds of it multiple orgasms weren’t on Lydia’s list of concerns but chafing, it seemed, was. It felt too soon but it had probably been a good while before Derek finally cursed and moved.

 

In one heft, he managed to hold Stiles tight around his lower back as he twisted them. The blanket was soft under his back as the shift made Derek’s cock finally drag out enough to make Stiles whimper. “Sorry,” Derek’s said gruffly. “But I’m sick of looking at Scott’s ass.”

 

Stiles somehow laughed at that, which turned into a half yell as Derek let Stiles’s legs down so his feet were flat on the ground. His limbs felt weak and coltish, the slow, steady movements lulling him into a state of constant, buzzing dissatisfaction. This was anything but that. Derek pulled out, and Stiles grabbed at him before he realized Derek was just reapplying lube. With a disgruntled look, Derek threw the tube over his shoulder. There was a pained shout as he presumably beaned Scott.

 

“Thank you!” Allison called back, cheery.

 

“I should never have made friends with teenagers,” Derek cursed darkly. Stiles forced his eyes open as Derek held his cock steady and pressed back in. Stiles’s ass was getting a bit sore but it was a sweet kind of delicious that made his toes curl. The extra lube was exactly what he needed. Stiles managed to hook one of his legs up, Derek wordlessly sliding one hand up his thigh until he could brace Stiles’s calf on his shoulder.

 

“We’re not teenagers anymore,” Stiles reminded him and hissed as Derek brushed against his prostate. He let out a shaky laugh. “Be grateful, or this would be a felony.”

 

Derek didn’t answer, he just rolled his eyes again and this time when he thrust in there was a new determination behind it. Stiles lost words right around then as Derek hitch his other leg up, patience clearly worn thin as he thrust deep and hard. One of Stiles’s hand flew over his head to grip at the blanket, the other grabbed the back of Derek’s neck, trying to keep himself grounded as the sensations washed over him, heightened but not fabricated by the spell. His balls felt too tight, his dick felt hard enough to hammer nails but he only had concentration for the way Derek was panting, his eyes hazed but scanning Stiles’s face as he shifted his grip and thrusts periodically.

 

This had been too long coming, Stiles knew, trying to banish any thought but heat, sex and desperation off his face. Sure, Derek was doing this because of the sex spell but as he met the other man’s eyes everything felt open and raw. Derek must have seen it too, despite Stiles’s best efforts, because he wrenched his gaze away and leaned forward. Stiles’s hamstrings stretched as Derek leaned low over him, face tilted slightly away and breathing deep as he thrust a half dozen more times.

 

“Fuck,” silent until now, the low word seemed louder as Derek stiffened, his grip tightening on Stiles’s legs. One hand dropped to brace himself on his forearm as his hips jerked. Stiles couldn’t help himself, he dropped his hand to his own cock and jerked himself quickly, his second orgasm not quite as stomach punching as the first but more drawn out, leaving him shaking until it felt like everything inside of him was drained.

 

Sweat dripped from Derek onto Stiles’s hair, face and chest. Normally, it would be disgusting. Now, Stiles pressed a shaky hand through the slick skin of Derek’s chest until the other man pulled back. Slowly, he slid out of Stiles, that sensation leaving him uncomfortable and wet feeling. They didn’t meet each other’s eyes as Derek reached for the shreds of his shirt and wiped it through his damp hair and face.

 

Stiles relaxed back, tilting his face to the thick, warbling glass of the greenhouse roof. Derek tossed the shirt at his face, blocking the view.

 

“Is it over?”

 

Stiles let the shirt sit there, too exhausted to contemplate moving for a minute. There were still flicks of something, something unsatisfied in him, but he realized with a jolt that it wasn’t from the spell. “Yeah,” he said, moving the shirt away from his face. Wobbling, he sat up, grimacing as he moved the ruined shirt to try and save the mess of the blanket.

 

The other three also seemed like they were finished. Lydia was looking as content as a cat as Allison nuzzled her collarbone. Scott looked dazed but pleased as he gave her a final kiss before sorting through the tangle of clothes around them.

 

Derek had already pulled on his briefs and jeans. He looked unhappy as he sat on the nearby couch, grimacing as the springs probably poked his backside like they did to Stiles, and tied his shoes. Suddenly feeling very naked, Stiles pulled the blanket around his hips.

 

“So,” he said finally as he tried not to watch Lydia and Allison expertly rehook their bras. “That… happened.”

 

“Next time less lavender,” Lydia said calmly as she slipped her hands into her blouse. She frowned when she realized how many buttons were gone and glared at Stiles. “You owe me a shirt.”

 

Stiles waved a hand dismissively and she just rolled her eyes. She tied the ends of the shirt together to make an attractive midriff. Scott still looked doped but Allison’s eyes were darting from where Derek seemed to be concentrating on his shoe laces with an intensity usually reserved for bomb defusing and Stiles who was doing his best pick twigs off the blanket.

 

“Okay, come on guys,” she planted a hand between both Scott and Lydia’s shoulders and propelled them towards the greenhouse doors. “I need to carbo-load after that. Anyone else want Chili’s?”

 

The door slammed shut behind them, making the delicate flowers on the bushes growing around it wobble. The air in the greenhouse felt suddenly oppressive.

 

“Do you have an extra shirt?” Derek finally broke the silence.

 

“Uh, yeah,” Stiles stood, his legs nearly buckling as he put weight on them. Derek wasn’t exactly a big guy and he could feel a slight ache as he shuffled to keep the blanket from falling down. He and Lydia kept spare clothes (and chains, and shoes, and lube, as everyone found out) in the greenhouse because it was a place where almost any odd thing could happen. Just last week, a flower they needed to complete a magical burn gel had upchucked acid all over Stiles’s crotch. Stiles was grateful it hadn’t dissolved his shirt, now, as he pulled his spare one free from another drawer in the workshop table and tossed it to Derek.

 

“So,” Stiles said, uncomfortably clutching the blanket as Derek pulled the slightly too small shirt over his head. “Thanks. For that. It would have been really awkward for me to ride that out alone while Scott and Allison double teamed Lydia.”

 

  “Right,” Derek said slowly and stood. He grabbed his jacket from the ground and after a brief hesitation he grabbed Stiles’s underwear and jeans too. He tossed them to Stiles who scrambled to catch while still holding the blanket with one hand. “You’re welcome.” He pulled his jacket on, smoothing out the collar, before he turned to leave without looking back in Stiles’s direction.

 

“ _Finite_.”

 

“What?” Derek paused, his hand on the door.

 

“It’s to end the spell,” Stiles said. “It’s stupid, I must have panicked when we felt it start. I couldn’t remember the word, which is stupid because it’s pretty much a staple in Harry Potter and Lord knows I was raised in the Potter generation.”

 

“End the spell?”

 

“Yeah,” Stiles twisted his hand and the blanket shifted higher on his stomach.

 

“You could have ended the spell?”

 

“Well, yeah,” Stiles repeated. “Lydia too. We’d never try something if we didn’t have an exit strategy.”

 

Derek’s eyes were wide, with shock or horror Stiles wasn’t sure. Slowly, he let go of the door handle. “But you didn’t remember it.”

 

Stiles felt hot shame flood over his face and neck. More than anything he wished he was wearing a shirt so Derek couldn’t see how much his skin flushed. “Uh, at first.”

 

“But then you remembered.”

 

“Yeah.”

 

“And you didn’t say it.”

 

“Yeah,” Stiles wondered if he could take a few steps to the right and say the spell to activate the booby trap that made thieves fall into the underground pit. Lydia checked it every week, he wouldn’t have to spend too long agonizing in there.

 

“Why?”

 

Stiles had been expecting more classic Derek anger, some growling and shifting, and maybe some damage control for the plants. He looked up and instead was met with classic Derek angst although this time instead of just painful sorrow there was something hopeful in his venerable looking eyes. “I may have. Been looking for a chance. To, uh. Jump your bones.”

 

Derek’s eyes narrowed slightly as he took in the halting words, a thoughtful look on his face. “And you thought _this_ was a good way to do it?”

 

“I gave you an out!” Stiles said defensively but he knew the argument was thin.

 

Derek scoffed, a much better alternative to turning on his heel and striding out altogether. “You gave me a choice where I could either have sex without or let you suffer. I would always choose—“ he froze suddenly, his eyes looking guilty this time and Stiles feeling a dawning comprehension.

 

“You would always choose—what?” he said slowly, trying to keep the grin from hijacking his face. “Good to know. With more than a small sense of delight, Stiles watched as Derek flushed. “Sex with me? You’d always choose sex with me? Is that what you were going to say?”

 

“Yes,” Derek said, a stubborn set to his face as if he realized he had backed himself into a corner and was determined to go out in a blaze of glory. “I’d always choose that over making you suffer. We both signed the same contract.”

 

“What else would you choose sex over?” Stiles asked, trying for an innocent tone and failing gleefully. “Hypothetically: what if it was have sex with Stiles or eating whatever’s in the green container at Isaac’s apartment?”

 

Derek blanched. “Sex.”

 

“Sex with me or taking a cross country trip with your uncle.”

 

“Sex,” Derek rolled his eyes but his shoulders relaxed slightly.

 

“Sex with me or helping me research book titles L to P on my list for my thesis.”

 

“God, the sex,” he leaned back from the door, shuddering as he remembered the stack of books that piled around Stiles’s dorm room so the walls were mostly hidden. “I hate your thesis book list, you know that.”

 

Stiles took a step forward, letting his pants drop to the ground. Derek tensed again, like Stiles was somehow corralling him into a corner, but he didn’t move back towards the door. Stiles took another step, letting his grip on the blanket loosen. He smirked when he saw Derek’s gaze shift to somewhere around his navel.

 

“Sex with me,” he said carefully. “Or no sex with me.”

 

Derek’s eyes jerked back up to his face. The guilty, hungry look in his eyes was all the answer Stiles needed. Without another word, he let the blanket drop.

 

***

 

“I’ll just be a minute,” Isaac reached for the handle of the door. Erica snapped her gum, bored with the chore. Boyd hung back as Isaac frowned and giggle the locked handle. “I really need those textbooks.”

 

“You’re sure you forgot them in there?” Boyd frowned as Isaac dug through his pockets for the key. “I thought you hated the greenhouse. Especially after that bush nearly ate you.”

 

“Nearly, yes,” Isaac said as he pulled out the iron key and put it in the lock. It was unusual for Stiles or Lydia to actually lock the greenhouse, it had enough defenses on it to keep out even the most curious hiker. “But it didn’t.”

 

“We’re going to miss the start of the movie because you just want to smell it,” Erica crossed her arms, unimpressed with Isaac as he turned until the tumblers opened with a loud click.  He pushed it open.

 

"Hey," he said defensively. “It’s not every day you get to visit the aftermath of a sexy liaison between Lydia and Allison—“

 

Isaac slammed the door shut, shoved the key so hard into the lock he nearly missed it, and locked it firmly. When he turned around his face was bright red, a wild panicked look in his eyes.

 

“Never mind!” he grabbed Boyd and Erica by the arm, dragging them bewildered down the overgrown path. “Not in there!”

 

“Did I smell—“

 

“Let’s just go,” Isaac said tensely. “Just go, now, in the car.”

 

“But—“

 

Inside the greenhouse, Stiles pulled his head back, the head of Derek’s bright red cock glistening with saliva as he turned to look curiously at the door.

 

“Did someone—“

 

“Don’t worry about it,” Derek curled his hand in Stiles’s hair, leaning down to lick the salty, heady flavor from his mouth.

 

“But—“

 

“Sex with me or chasing after three idiots who don’t know what the hell a locked door means?”

 

“Sex, duh,” Stiles grinned and dipped his head back down.


End file.
